


Close Call

by propangel



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Phrack Fucking Friday, pff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 08:12:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18687583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/propangel/pseuds/propangel
Summary: He looked tired. Haunted. Afraid. And it was all because of what had happened to her.





	Close Call

  


  


Phryne wasn't surprised to see that he was the one standing on her porch when she opened the front door. She knew he couldn’t bear to be separated from her for too long after what happened. 

Jack stood behind her in the foyer as she slowly closed the door behind him. As soon as he heard the lock click into place, he gently took hold of her hand and led her to the chaise in the parlor. Without a word, he sat down on it and pulled her down next to him. She tightly wrapped her arms around his torso, and he buried his head into her soft, ebony locks. They had only been apart for a few hours after their ordeal, but it seemed like it had been days. Neither was sure how long they spent holding each other when Jack finally spoke. 

"I love you," he whispered. The words ghosted across the back of her neck. It wasn't the first time she had heard the words fall from his mouth, but her skin still erupted with goose bumps all the same.

She shifted from where she was sitting next to him and lifted his head from where it was resting against her, placing warm kisses around her pulse point. Moving to lay down, she dragged him on top of her and brought his face to hers. His eyes were squeezed tight and she lifted a hand to gently caress his cheek. His eyes fluttered open, and the emotion she saw in his eyes made her want to hide from what she saw reflected there. He looked tired. Haunted. Afraid. And it was all because of what had happened to her.

She leaned in and nuzzled his nose with her own. His eyes slid shut again.

"And I you," she whispered, tilting her head slightly to catch his lower lip softly between hers. He exhaled into her kiss and began to kiss her back, pushing her deeper into the cushions of the chaise. She could taste his desperation, feel his need in the touch of his hands as they ran up and down her sides. He needed this. He needed to know that she was still there.

Suddenly, without warning, Jack broke apart from her.

"They can't have you," he breathed.

Phryne looked up at him, her chest heaving, and shook her head at him once she registered his words. "Never."

He shook his head and kept on speaking, the hushed words making it seem as though he was having a conversation with himself. "The Camorra have tried to take you from me before, but they can't have you. Not when we just started this. They just can't have you. Not now. Not ever."

She slowly ran her hands down the planes of his chest, his dress shirt no longer crisp and fresh but rather disheveled and covered in wrinkles. Ever so gently, he took hold of her wrist and slowly brought her forearm up to his face. He stared at the clean white bandage wrapped tightly around the skin below her elbow, remembering how just hours before the site was a shade of red that he never wanted to see around her again.

He leaned forward and kissed it softly, before placing his forehead against it gingerly and breathing in deeply through his nose. Underneath the smell of antiseptic and iodine, it was there. The aroma that was forever ingrained into his memory as a characteristic of her since the first time he noticed it. The delicate floral scent of her French perfume battled its way past the bandages and assaulted his senses. It kept him grounded. If he could still smell the jasmine, it meant she was still here. She was still fighting. That bastard that had followed them into the abandoned building and stalked her with a knife didn't win. She had gone with her gut and turned around at the last minute and managed to take him down receiving a gash on her forearm that required 23 stitches. She was going to be fine. Collins and Martin were working on getting a confession out of him, and she was safe at home. A little worse for wear, but alive.

There was just so much blood.

He had left her alone for just a moment to examine a box that looked out of place when he heard her cry out in pain. He turned around in time to watch her dropkick her attacker. Running toward her, he caught her just before she hit the ground, biting her lip in sheer agony, gripping her arm with white knuckles.

He took off his suit coat and wrapped it around her arm, worried that the blade may have nicked an artery. He assured her everything was going to be fine and held her tight in his arms as she fought the pain. When the suspect was in custody they rushed her to the hospital. 

He was furious. Who the hell thought they had the right to try to kill her?

She could sense his anger, and suggested that she go home alone to give him time to cool off. He initially refused and told her they were going home together where they belonged, but he also wanted to hit something and he didn't want to do that around her. He drove her back to Wardlow, walked her up to the door and gave her a quick kiss goodbye before heading to the station. He arrived just in time to join the constables in interrogating the man who had tried to kill her. The only thing the man regretted was not finishing the job, but other than that he wasn't talking. Frustrated, he left the room with clenched fists and sat down at his desk, staring at her perch.

This injury had been nothing like what had happened the year before when she nearly died in his arms. There was no sinking feeling in his stomach that she wasn't going to pull through. His rational mind knew that she would be fine. But this time it was so much worse because now she was his. There were no obstructions, no others to keep them from each other anymore. They were together, and they loved each other, and now that he had her - people were trying to take her away.

It then dawned on him that he was sitting at the station without her and had left her home alone. How could he do that? Ignoring all the traffic laws, he was back at Wardlow in less than ten minutes. 

She moved beneath him, stirring him from his thoughts. "I'm here," she whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

He shuddered and gripped her tighter. "I know."

They held each other for a few moments longer when he felt her shift underneath him. She sat up and started pressing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw. Standing up, he pulled her into his arms as he pressed a kiss to her mouth. She immediately responded, standing on her toes to kiss him fully. Their lips never parted as he ran his hands down along her torso and back as she arched into him. He reached his hand down to hoist her up, and her legs came up to wrap around his waist to hold herself there. Wrapping his arms around her, he began to make his way to the bedroom. She buried her face into his neck, kissing the hollow under his ear before taking the lobe between her teeth.

"I love you," she breathed.

He climbed the stairs slowly, holding onto her for dear life, afraid to let her go. Nudging the bedroom door open, he laid her down on the bed, gazing at her sweetly and lightly ran his fingers along her cheek. He leaned in and kissed her tenderly.

"And I you.” 

And he intended to prove it.


End file.
